


Like a Prayer

by lilymae92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Laundry, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilymae92/pseuds/lilymae92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One word: Laundromat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

The bunker door slammed shut, wind billowing around with the motion, as Dean pulled a worn and weary Cas into his arms. They hadn't parted on very good terms, and no words would suffice for a greeting. Sam watched on from the corner of the room, smiling slight as his brother buried his face against the other's shoulder. He was slightly concerned about the state of Castiel's clothing, but didn't say anything. He simply waved with a smile and moved out of the room to give the two some time alone, knowing just how much they needed it.

When Dean finally dared to pull back, the feeling in the pit of his stomach as if Cas would vanish the second he let go started to ebb. He was solid, he was there, and hopefully, wasn't going anywhere for a while. His bright grin was mixed with a mild confusion, his body shifting slightly so he could look at the man better, "Cas... what happened?" He had so many questions... So many things he wanted to know, but knew Cas wouldn't want to talk about any of it.

He was right, the angel across from him shaking his head and looking down, "I... Dean, I really don't..." Cas could feel the exhaustion creeping over him, the mild sense of security created by the other man and the bunker starting to relax him. There had been a few days of travel between where he had fallen and where he was now, and park benches could only give him rest for so long. 

Dean simply nodded and moved to let go of him, instantly regretting it. Still, the reality of the situation hit him, the stench of musk and dirt creeping up to his nostrils, the sight of the dirty and slightly blood stained trenchcoat a bit of a worry. Cas didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't bring it up, but... "When was the last time you changed clothes?" His brows furrowed lightly, "I... Let's get you washed up." It wasn't like the angel to go without cleaning, so he could only assume the worst.

Leading the man into the bathroom, he sat him down on the toilet seat, sighing and moving to find a clean wash cloth. Lathering it up with hot water and soap, he moved over, Castiel's deep blue eyes piercing his own gaze with a silent appreciation. Dean's hand, wedged behind the soft cloth, moved to run along the angel's chin, along the scruff that was starting to grow out. It was just like purgatory, all over again... but without the danger looming over your shoulder. 

Castiel swallowed hard and closed his eyes, a mix of tension and calm rushing through his veins as Dean's hand moved to rid his face of dirt and grime. He wasn't sure if he liked Dean's slow and steady pace, his heart beginning to race alongside a new sensation that was boiling in the pit of his stomach. It was odd, and although the sensation was tugging at him, he tried to ignore it, simply reveling in the way Dean moved his hands with care. 

Too soon, Dean pulled back, murmuring, "We should get those clothes cleaned. We don't have a washer and dryer here, but there's a good laundromat in town..." He took in a deep breath, moving to pull back and set the wash cloth aside, "You can borrow some of my clothes to wear until yours are clean, if you want." Flushing lightly, "Then we could get you some new ones, I mean..." He shrugged, stumbling over his words, "If-If you want some new clothes. Might be good for you."

Speechless, Cas shook his head, muttering, "I..." The words were difficult, "I can't stay." His throat felt as if it were closing up, the pulsing that was radiating through his abdomen starting to subside at his current thoughts. He looked up at the man in front of him, watching his slightly bewildered countenance, "There's a target on my head, Dean... and this bunker won't stop the ones that want me dead."

Dean shook his head, unwilling to believe that Cas would really think that. Yet, deep down, he knew it was true. Unlike Purgatory, they were unmatched with their powers, and he knew for a fact that the only reason him and Sam had survived against the angels thus far because of Cas and sheer dumb luck. Now... he wasn't even sure if Cas was a full-fledged angel anymore. 

Not wanting to push things too far, knowing just how he tended to push Cas just over his limit, he looked away, muttering, "Just know that you're always welcome here, and..." He shook his head, looking up, "We can go with you. You don't have to do this alone." His brows furrowed, voice soft, "But if it's something you have to do..." He shook his head, "Just let us know what you need. Let..." He swallowed, "Let me know what you need. I... I can get you set up with a cashflow, help you find places to stay, get you situated, protected..." He frowned, wanting to go on before Cas sighed, stopping him in his tracks.

"I just want to wash my clothes, and get some rest. Figure things out later." Cas looked down to his lap, cringing a bit, "And I feel so dirty." Never before had he felt so drained, so defiled... Dean simply stared, his heart starting to grow heavy, voice soft, "How about we go to the laundromat? I'll bring some boxers, and you can wash up in the bathroom. We'll get you cleaned up." He forced a small smile, moving back to try and lead him out of the room. 

With a bit of effort, Cas nodded and stood, following close behind as Dean started for his room. He waited outside, however, not wanting to cross some sort of personal human boundary. Normally, he wouldn't care, but suddenly he understood. He understood now that closeness actually meant something. Dean didn't seem to care either way, getting a pair of boxers and a old shirt, just something to cover the man up while his clothes were in the wash.

The two started out together, Dean shouting his farewells to Sam, letting him know what they were going off to do. Cas was hesitant when Dean jumped into the Impala, but moved regardless to open the passenger side door. The ride was quiet, other than the music pulsing through the speakers. It wasn't until they arrived that Cas spoke again, "I'll be in in a minute..." He forced a small smile, Dean simply nodding and moving to get out. He would find a good spot for them to sit inside while the laundry did it's thing, somewhere out of the way. 

Cas lingered in the Impala, looking around and soaking in every last detail. It wasn't often that he could actually sit in the Impala, appreciate it... He only hoped he would have more times like this to do so. Taking in a deep breath, smelling the leather and hints of gunpowder, he moved to get out, starting up the walk to the doors of the laundromat. He furrowed his brow, spotting a sign that said that the establishment was closed. Yet, Dean was inside, flipping on just enough of the lights for them to do what they needed to. 

Moving inside and towards the back, Cas frowned, muttering, "We're not supposed to be here right now, are we?" Dean simply shrugged, handing over the clean boxers and t-shirt, "The bathroom's right there. Go ahead and wash up. Soap, water, paper towels... whatever. I've got some detergent." He held up a small packet that he had gotten from a vending machine, smiling with his mild success.


	2. Part Two

Swallowing hard, Castiel took the clothes and moved into the little room, closing the door behind him. He knew from past experience what needed to be cleaned and what needed to be scrubbed, but he had never really had to do it himself. Setting the clothes on the toilet lid, he began to strip, slowly revealing more and more skin to the cold air. He shivered, taking in a deep breath as he turned on the hot water. Of course, it wasn't very hot... He frowned, but lathered up a paper towel with soap and water, much like Dean had with the rag. 

More than a few paper towels disposed of, Cas dressed in the boxers and shirt, finding they were both just a tad too baggy on him. The shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, and the boxers... well, they slid down to hover just below his hip bones, showing a little more skin than his pants normally would. When he bent down, he had to hold them up to keep them from slipping along his rear, picking up his things with one hand. He cringed at the reek, moving out of the room and holding them out for Dean to take. 

The man was sitting on top of one of the dryers, humming a bit of Metallica to himself to bide the time. He stared when he saw the angel come close, the sight of him wearing his clothes... well, it did something for him. He shifted a tad and opened the lid to the washer beside him, muttering, "Just put them in here."

He waited until Cas set the clothes inside before adding the detergent, hopping off the dryer and moving to get the load started. Soon, the slow rumble of the machine took over the silence, the two men standing quite close to one another. Dean had noticed, but didn't want to say anything. Instead, he took in a long breath, murmuring, "Cas..." His voice was soft, just loud enough for the other to hear. It wasn't as if they had to hide from anyone, but the intimacy of the moment was just too much. 

One of the dim lights flickered for a moment, and Cas began to notice the way his heart was starting to pick up speed, how his breathing was starting to grow light and shallow. He didn't have much of a response other than to shift a little closer, his body nearly a magnet drawn to the other. "Cas..." Dean whispered again, a little more serious, a little more cautious. Cas could feel the man's broad hands slide over his nearly bare hips, his breath hitching as he moved closer. 

The tension shifted in the room, the extreme unsurity turning quickly into a whole different sort of unsurity. It wasn't new to Cas, physical intimacy. He had watched over humankind long enough that he knew. It was still different. Having Dean's skin against his... that always sent sparks fluttering through his nerves, but now, it felt so, so... human. 

Dean slid his hands carefully, trying to pull Castiel close, and then edge him back against the washer, "Cas..." He watched the angel shiver, closing his eyes with a soft sound. That was what he wanted to hear... Shifting just a bit closer, he let his lips glide across the other's, both seeming to melt at the contact. For Dean, it had been much too long since he had held another close, felt another pair of lips pressed gently upon his own. 

When Dean pulled his lips away from the gentle kiss, he simply moved to press them down along the scruff that was forming along Castiel's jaw and neck, moving slowly and whispering between, "Cas..." Every other kiss led to another moan, Cas sliding his hand up into Dean's hair and tugging lightly. That's all it took for him to feel as if his soul were on fire, his stomach knotting up like it had before. 

The soft whispers reminded him of the prayers he used to hear every night, Dean's soft voice echoing in his thoughts as he sat under the stars. It was refreshing to hear his voice like that again, soft and sweet into his ear, like honey. And those kisses... He groaned as he felt Dean suckle a bit of flesh, nipping at it carefully. Both hands now tugged light at the man's hair, body shifting to press against Dean's. 

Dean let out a sound of his own at that, pressing his angel roughly against the machine behind him. His fingers carefully slid around Castiel's waist, exploring the new territory. Muscles and curves and lines... they were all different than a woman's. That didn't mean he didn't appreciate them just as much. In fact, when his hands got to the other's hip bones, he had to pause, breathing ragged as he nibbled at his shoulder. 

Cas whimpered, whispering hoarse, "Dean..." It felt so good to say, that one small word nearly a release for him, "Dean..." His hands moved from Dean's hair to his chest, tugging on his overshirt and nudging the side of his face to get him to look at him. Both slightly breathless, their eyes met, locked on to one another like hawks. The washer buzzed, and Dean groaned. Just as things were getting good...

It wasn't until he pulled back to start taking care of the clothes that he noticed Cas shuffling strange as he moved to sit, a tent starting to form in the worn boxers he was wearing. He smiled, a bit dazed, moving to toss the clothes into the dryer. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his chest. All had been forgotten, in the moment, and it was just about the two of them, alone, in the little laundromat.


End file.
